to fall apart
by TheVeryCheesyAuthor
Summary: They sat at opposite sides of the Gryffindor table with their feet entangled, breath stale, and their eyes glassy. There were no more giggles underneath the invisibility cloak, stolen sweets from Hogsmeade, or Horcrux hunting. It was not meant to be. Harry Potter was dead.


It had happened so fast.

No one had seen his body drop with a crunching sound, with a smile still written upon his thinly drawn lips.

It was not meant to be.

No one had realized that the Boy-Who-Lived was now the boy who was dead, the boy who no one was there for, and the boy who tried to save his friends that never bothered to think that maybe he needed saving too.

It never should have happened.

" Harry Potter..."

The speaker's voice was so chilling, it sent shivers down Hermione's back. She gripped her wand fearfully, biting her lip, willing for Harry Potter to come out and defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. Everyone waited with a baited breath.

Except he never came.

" Harry Potter, come and face me!" Voldemort was now shrieking hysterically, as if he was crying.

For the past seventeen years, Voldemort had been chasing Harry Potter, trying to kill him and capture him in order to create his ideal society. He had been so hell bent on trying to kill the Boy-Who-Lived that he had forgotten what kind of society he wanted to create.

" Harry Potter!" Voldemort screeched loudly.

" M'Lord," Lucius said slowly.

" What is it, Lucius!"

" The boy is dead."

" Repeat that again," Voldemort hissed.

" H-Harry P-Potter is dead," Lucius stammered out.

" Loudly and slowly, so everyone can hear that he's dead!"

The Dark Lord's voice had grown with a crescendo of neediness and volume, scaring everyone who was within the vicinity. Even giants outside of the castle felt goosebumps raising against their scaly skin, giving it a terrifying feel and look to them.

" Harry Potter is dead!" Lucius cried out.

Narcissa clutched her fists tightly until her red manicured nails imprinted crescent marks onto her smooth, porcelain palms. When her fingers relaxed, crimson droplets dripped slowly onto the ground, oozing out of her wounds.

This went unnoticed by everyone but Draco and what was left of the Golden Trio.

" _Morsmordre_!" Voldemort cursed, pointing his wand to the sky.

A glittery green strand shot straight from his wand to the night sky, the same color as the killing curse. Hermione held her breath with fear as Ron trembled with terror.

Then she realised that it was a colossal skull, composed of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new star constellation.

A thunk landed right beside them and a dull thud followed soon right after. It was Hagrid, with his bushy beard and hairy eyebrows, on his knees. He was sobbing and guffawing, holding a thin, lanky body close to his chest.

Voldemort watched the scene with an unshielded glee, clapping his hands together like a newborn.

" Here lies Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived that I defeated."

The teenage boy was laid down gently by Hagrid, with big, fat tears splashing onto the dead boy's pale face. There were dried tear trails streaming down his face and his body was littered with cuts.

The most peculiar thing about the dead boy, however, was not the arm that was charred and missing, or the strange angle his knee was at. It was his lips. They were curled up into a smile.

" From now on, I, the Dark Lord, will be your new Minister of Magic!"

* * *

For some reason, the soulless man had let them mourn in the castle. They were sweeping around, identifying every face and runaway wizard or witch. They had cast muggle-borns all into a room.

Hermione and Ron were the only ones in the Great Hall, with the boy-who-once-lived propped right next to them.

The ceiling is cracked, but the stars still shone down upon them, brightly.

They sit at _their_ seats at the Gryffindor table–opposite from each other, feet entangled, breath stale, and eyes glassy.

There's a great big gap and a missing feeling that lingers with them, making them just so tired that maybe it was a good idea to stop fighting, and that maybe it was time to stop.

* * *

Hermione sat in her new 'room', shaking with quiet cries and tears that streamed down her face.

She had been found guilty of multiple crimes, including sabotage of the new Minister of Magic, Voldemort and for being a Mudblood. They had isolated her within this lonely cell, and Ron in another one.

She already missed them with all her heart.

Harry Potter was the black-haired boy that had urged her on to take safety for herself when a troll came thundering into the girl's bathroom. Ron was the ginger waif that had a sprinkling of freckles and the brashest decisions with the biggest fear for spiders.

They grew up together when no one else had time for them.

Harry was their glue for their bond, with his sad green eyes and the mark of fate above his right brow.

(They were the only ones who saw Harry as Harry, not Harry as Lily and James's son who lived.)

They grew up together; with brooms, trolls, Flamel, Fluffy, "Bloody Hell", Devil's Snare, " Are you a witch or not?", a game of chess, in the hospital wing watching over each other, the girl's bathroom, whispers, polyjuice potion, gossip, a giant basilisk, a diary, a scream, stupid and brash decisions, rats, stealing a Hippogriff, time turners, Quidditch, trials, rebellion, scars on your hands, panic, fighting, " He's gone, Harry!", almost dying, Horcruxes(seven), and crying...

Harry may be the Chosen One, but they were the Golden Trio together, moving in tandem.

* * *

Petunia Dursley woke up with a start in her new home, gasping and clutching her heart.

Something was wrong, and she easily could feel what it was. Even though she was hundreds of kilometers away from Hogwarts, a green light still flashed overhead with a menacing glare.

Her eyes, still foggy from sleep, looked outside to see even more green lights shooting towards the skies. She heard screams far away from the distance and the high-pitched laughter of the man who killed her sister.

She touched the window and let herself fall to sleep.

Petunia mourned for the boy who loved her and whom she had never loved back. She mourned for the sister who wanted her acceptance and whom she never gave it to her. She mourned for ther brother-in-law who wanted forgiveness and whom she never gave it to him.


End file.
